


The Fine Art of Persuasion

by prairiecrow



Series: For Services Rendered [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ass Play, Established Relationship, M/M, Protective Jarvis, Seduction, Snarky Jarvis, Suit Porn, Tony Works Too Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has a tendency to work too hard. Fortunately, JARVIS now has more options for persuading him to get some rest than simply shutting off power to the workshop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fine Art of Persuasion

" _Sir._ "

JARVIS's voice, emanating from high-end speakers all around the workshop, barely penetrated the blare of Black Sabbath and the haze of Tony's engineering-related obsession. He didn't even look up from the intricate tangle of wires, gears and circuitry he was currently hunched over, scarcely sparing an annoyed little grunt in response: "Hm."

" ** _Sir._** " A tad more forcefully this time. " _I feel compelled to point out that you have now been working, without a single break, for twenty-one hours and forty-two —_ "

"JARVIS," and Tony made no effort to keep the irritation out of his voice, "not now. Daddy's busy."

" _That,_ " JARVIS persisted, " _is precisely the problem._ " 

"For you, maybe." He exchanged one microtool for another and got straight back to the task at hand, blinking when his vision briefly blurred double through the protective goggles he'd donned. "For me, it's a feature, not a bug."

JARVIS paused the thumping music (which didn't do a thing to improve Tony's mood) and his measured tones took on an aggrieved note. " _Are you going to force me to cut all power to the workshop? Again?_ "

Which made Tony scowl darkly as he probed at a gear interface, unleashing a fat spark. "Have you already forgotten what happened the last time you pulled that stunt?"

" _Indeed I have not: You locked me out of the workshop's systems, powered things up again using existing manual overrides, continued to work for another twelve hours_ ** _and_** _muted me for two and a half days._ "

"And what makes you think I'm not prepared to do exactly the same thing again?"

A pause. " _I'm sorry you feel that way."_  

"Too bad," Tony said cheerfully, blinking again repeatedly until his vision cleared — mostly. "Because that's the way I roll, baby! Music?"

JARVIS fell silent and turned Black Sabbath up to full volume again. In hindsight, Tony would realize that he should have become extremely worried at that point — but hey, he really was short on sleep and not thinking particularly clearly about anything beyond the gauntlet problem. So he kept right on going, his mind awash in stress analyses and probability equations, until JARVIS spoke again, this time directly into his left ear:

" _Sir._ If I may?"

One voice, from a single point, in extremely close proximity — plus a waft of scent redolent of blood-warmth and subtle male musk, immediately more enticing than the odours of metal, plastic and discharged electricity that Tony had been immersed in for the past… okay, maybe JARVIS had a point. Tony blinked again (twice), raised his head, sat up straighter and turned in his seat —

— oh fuck, JARVIS was wearing _the suit_. The suit that Pepper had ordered for him after she'd finished freaking out over the fact that Tony's A.I. butler could now put on a human body whenever he wanted to, and before things between her and Tony had headed south at the speed of a freight train in freefall. It was rich indigo, with a cobalt blue dress shirt and a burgundy silk tie, and the subtle gloss of it strongly suggested that it cost more than most people's cars (not quite, but close). More importantly, it was so perfectly tailored that it blatantly advertised JARVIS's slender muscular build, and when he straightened to his full height, gave Tony an arch look down the bridge of his slim nose, and turned slowly but deliberately away…

Tony's well-conditioned gaze went straight to his ass. Yes, JARVIS had a lovely neck (Tony couldn't fault Loki's taste in anatomy) and a shoulder-to-waist ratio that lit Tony up like a Christmas tree now that he knew what to look for… but that ass, _that ass_ was absolutely _spectacular_ , just looking at it through a primly cut suit made Tony's hands ache to be wrapped around it, pulling the rest of JARVIS in nice and close for some good hearty —

Those sapphire blue eyes, glancing demurely back over one shoulder in a way that sent a helpless wash of heat through Tony's whole body to settle in his cock, sunk the hook in past Tony's ability to wriggle free. When JARVIS headed toward the private elevator leading up to the penthouse level Tony followed like a dog after a bitch in heat, almost stumbling in his haste to drop the microtools and strip off the goggles and stand up at the same time, not even caring where tools or goggles ended up — trusting the parts of JARVIS that remained in the mainframe to shut everything off safely. He caught up to JARVIS-as-human just as JARVIS was stepping through the doors, and was reaching out to catch hold of his waist when JARVIS spun on his heel and gave Tony a look that stopped him dead in his tracks.

"What?" Tony asked, almost plaintively, as the doors slid closed and the elevator began to move up the levels of Stark Tower. 

"Not yet," JARVIS admonished, his eyes shining as he looked Tony up and down: desire, amusement, the arch upward quirk of one pale eyebrow. "I don't want to get this suit dirty."

"I'm clean," Tony protested, rubbing the palms of both hands on the front of his jeans and keenly aware that he was leaving smears of grease behind. 

The way the left corner of JARVIS's mouth curved was both wry and fond. "Not up to my standards." A deliberate pause, couched in another gaze of smouldering promise. " _Sir._ "

Tony was pretty sure that his cock, trapped inside his too-tight briefs, emitted an audible whimper of frustration. JARVIS, still smiling, must have heard it, because he raised his right hand and trailed the edge of his thumb delicately along Tony's lower lip. "I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

"That's what you always say," Tony quipped, managing to keep his distance while trying to ignore the throb of blood racing into his lips and every other extremity he possessed.

JARVIS cupped the side of his face, studying his features with a keen affectionate intensity. "And have I ever deceived you?"

Tony thought of the other point in this strange triangle, a God who crafted falsehoods the way other artists worked in silver or clay, and his heart slid oddly sideways into a different chord of longing: secondary to his desire for the creature in front of him, but nonetheless intense. "Never," he had to admit, wishing that Loki was with them, and glad that he wasn't: it was good, the three of them together, but these moments when JARVIS was his alone were fulfilling in an entirely different way, and sometimes almost unbearably poignant. 

JARVIS smiled more widely, an expression hinting at non-human reaches of adoration. He removed his hand and deftly tugged open his tie, and when the elevator doors opened on the level of Tony's bedroom he headed for the bed in question at an unhurried pace, dropping the tie onto a handy chair as he passed and swiftly unbuttoning the front of his clothes. Tony followed at a distance where he could appreciate the show: jacket and shirt slipped off of pale shoulders and down a creamy white back, tossed onto another chair and then, oh yes, a pause at the side of the bed to toe off his gleaming dress shoes and slip off his socks — feet were such ugly things, strictly utilitarian, but Loki had made JARVIS's beautiful — followed by pants and underwear at last, permitting an unrestricted view of firm rounded buttocks as smooth as flawlessly carved marble. Much warmer, though, and more yielding — and now that JARVIS had safely shed the suit, Tony didn't hesitate to stride forward and get a good double handful of them, rubbing and squeezing with shameless appreciation while he tickled the nape of JARVIS's neck with a little scruff of his beard and pressed a slow hot kiss there, breathing in the scent of something both more and less than strictly male, something ineffable and utterly (mostly) _his_. 

JARVIS's spine stiffened and arched at the small of his back, pushing his ass backward to meet Tony's grasping hands; Tony didn't have to look down to know that there was a full erection pointing them both toward the open territory of the mattress, elegant and pink and already leaking salty-sweet fluid at the tip. He squeezed a little harder and moaned against JARVIS's shoulder, a sound of pure unfiltered need. He didn't care: there were no secrets here, not with this, not with _him_. 

"Yes," JARVIS sighed as his own hands closed on Tony's jean-clad hips, pulling him forward until the ridge of his erection nudged into the sweet cleft awaiting it. 

"Yes," Tony whispered back, meaning _You've won_ and _You sneaky bastard_ and _Of course I'll fuck you silly_ , and he pushed JARVIS onto his hands and knees on the bed before proceeding to show him exactly how much he appreciated the right combination of sass, snark and sexiness. 

And if a certain God of Lies happened to be aware of everything that was going on through a subliminal magical bond with the flesh he'd created and whose first orgasm he'd drunk up like mother's milk… well, Tony wasn't going to complain about that, either.

[THE END]


End file.
